


The Sweet Soldier

by lahvenduer



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Gen, Hermitcraft Environnemental Protection Agency, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Manipulation, Interrogation, It's my fic and i get to choose how game mechanichs work, Lies, Mild Language, Minecraft, Mycelium Resistance, Not sure if the gore is very graphic but better to assume it is, Respawn, Revenge, Soldiers, Violence, War, also death, forgot to tag because im idot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27268180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lahvenduer/pseuds/lahvenduer
Summary: The War in the shopping district is quickly spreading; FalseSymmetry, the HEP Spy-Soldier and Cubfan, an Enforcer and Propagandist have been deployed to watch over the Shopping District for any suspicions activity, and to find intel about the Resistance.Things escalate from there.
Relationships: But i dont think stabbing each other is very freindly, I was gonna say platonic
Kudos: 22





	The Sweet Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> um. Happy Halloween?

HEP member, spy-soldier FalseSymmetry continued her patrol around the shopping district, a Netherite sword sheathed on her belt.  
After her failure with the Resistance’s decoy HQ trick she was determined not to mess up again. With the Mayor’s Throne mycelium again (However legal it was to do so) and the patches of the disgusting purple block still littered around, the Resistance seemed to have the upper hand.

Meanwhile, the Enforcer Propagandist, Cub, was in his embankment across from iJevin’s Sponge shop. The walls lifted up to allow for the perfect opportunity to snipe with his ‘➶Power Punch➶' bow.  
The Shopping District felt like a No Man’s Land. The sky was dull as dishwater, low hanging clouds covered the tops of any tall buildings ready to empty at a moment's notice; the air was veiled with heaviness and silence. No one except the two Soldiers had been her all morning.

False had been making rounds on foot. Mud, spores, and dead leaves clumping to her boots and pulling her down. She needed the extra protection though, and swapped her Elytra for a hefty chestplate. You never know who you’ll come across in the shopping district these times. It might’ve been slower, but she was on the lookout for any nefarious activity.  
Those Resistance vermin could be anyone. HEP members were plainly known, their faces in the lobby of their HQ. But Mycelium Resisters? No one could be trusted.

She had passed Cub and his trench once again. A glance, and a salute before she continued on. Zigzagging her way through the foul mud, hunched over from the heavy armour. She continually tugged on it, for just a moment’s reprieve on her sore shoulders.  
A sigh. How long has she been out? It has to have been many hours. No Hermit was dumb enough to visit the Shopping District now. Scar had let everyone know any ‘Sus’ activity in the area would have you placed under investigation, by order of the Mayor. 

Footsteps. False’s attention was near-instantaneously drawn to the sound. Apparently somes Hermits were stupid enough to go shopping today. Spinning around, she saw Cub ducked low with sharp eyes and bow drawn. He heard it too.

Hands gripped the hilt of her sword, ready to draw at a moment's notice, when she saw the figure, their movement caught her eyes, just right from where Cub hid. Black and yellow tee, khaki shorts; stepping out of Mumbo’s self-portrait and Spookifiator.  
False was standing about 10 blocks away. She drew her sword and stalked closer; sneaking to muffle the ‘plop’ of mud-clumped boots hitting the ground.  
He seemed to be in a bit of a rush, looking for something.  
A quick glance over to Cub, and his face mirrored her own confusion.  
How did he get past both of us?  
She had neither heard footsteps nor the tell-tale noise of rockets. He seemed to have come from Mumbo’s shop. And now that she thinks about it, It had been Impulse who directly led Cub into the first booby-trap, dropping him into a pit of festering zombies. It was Impulse who tricked her into the false HQ, and attempted to kill her with the failed bubblevator trap. Maybe the reak HQ was hidden around Mumbo’s shop, and he built it as a front, and Mumbo was part of those dirty resistors this whole time, and Impulse had just accidentally leaked the location, not realizing he was being watched, and now False, proud HEP member, alongside Cub, were the ones who found the Mycelium HQ for real? Oh, this was glorious!  
Before reason could cloud her adrenaline-flushed mind, she closed the distance with the Unarmoured Hermit, within striking distance of her sword.  
The blade was drawn high and prepared to slash, but her arms held steady.  
“What are you doing here? You heard the Mayor. Any suspicious activity shall be investigated.”  
His nervous expression grew tenfold. If only he had rockets and wings, he’d’ve high-tailed it outta there sooner than the HEP soldiers could catch sight of him.  
“Oh, Um, Hia False! Good seein’ you here. Thats. Uh. A pretty pointy sword ya got there. Pointing at my face…” Impulse’s voice was pitched higher because of his fear, and kept side-eyeing the danger in front of him.  
“Hey man, so yeah. The Big Fella in charge got a new law in place. Nothin’ against ya, nah!” Cubfan slipped under their notice and out of the Foxhole, now coming up and standing behind Impulse; bow no longer drawn, instead in his inventory, but the threat still stood. “Just gotta protect the area, right False? Make sure there ain’t any of those diseased mycelium-lovers hanging around.”  
Out of all the HEP Members to come across, of course Impulse would have the luck of meeting the only two he’d pissed off the most, and the two who most suspected him as a Resistance member.  
“Oh definitely,” came False’s answer. “we’re just protecting our server. So why are you here, Impulse?”  
“I died. A-at my base. Missed the water at the bottom of my base after jumping down. I had set my spawn point at Mumbo’s costume place, honest!” He held up his hands in a placating gesture, and pointed at his face. It was covered in a bit of paint, made to mimic a creeper. “Check the chat logs, guys, I wouldn't lie to HEP!”  
It didn't sound like Impulse was stringing them along. If he was, they could tell easily. He sucked at lieing, and everyone knew that.  
But ever-apprehensive HEP knew that he wasn't off the hook, he could be using doublespeak, a half-truth half-lie to appease the soldiers.  
“Is that so, Mr. Impulse- Known Mycelium Resistor and HEP’s most wanted?” Cub said, even though it was a total fib. They didnt know for certain the identity of any Resistors (Only having pretty damning, but not infallible, evidence.)  
“A Resistance member? No- No way guys! You know me, i hate that- Uh- gross purpley stuff too.”  
Neither False nor Cub seemed convinced. False grilled him further, adjusting her sword slightly, still being held at a threatening distance. “No? Then how come it was you that led Cub here into a trap, and you with a mycelium farm near to your base?”  
Before Impulse could stutter out a response Cub interrupted him -  
“A drop into a hole full of zombies, Impulse! Not a fun way to go, my friend.” Cub moved closer, crowding him and blocking any worthless attempt at an escape he was so desperately looking for.  
False spoke next, with a sludge of anger and embarrassment seeping into her, driven by her failures so far to HEP. “Just give up, Impulse. There's no use in trying to scarper, all of HEP knows your words are bullshit.” She practically growled the words.  
Impulse almost sounded whiney, speaking too fast and too high to be the truth. “Please guys, you have no proof of me being a resistor so there's really no need for me to be here! How ‘bout I just get outta your hair and we leave the fights for the actual mycelium-lovers?” He thought he got away for a second when neither of them replied, but apparently it was the wrong thing to say. Impulse was very bad at lying. Maybe if he’d not been so distracted by the thought of his Netherite armour and all his gear despawning back at his base, he could’ve avoided this spat all together.  
But as it turns out, Impulse had trouble being charismatic when he was nervous. Something snapped in False; she was tired of dragging on with his obvious lies seeping with anxiety. And in an instant she knew what she had to do as a HEP member. Revenge, glory, her own pride, it didn't even matter. She was a good soldier, and she wouldn't fail this time.

With a white-knuckled grip on the hilt of her blade, she lunged forward. Cub had the sense to take a hasty step away, narrowly missing her line of fire.

Sharpened edge tore through soft flesh and facia.  
False had shredded through his abdomen and she yanked her sword back, breathing heavily, feeling not even the slightest bit relieved.

The three Hermits stood impossible still for a moment - no one dared make a sound. It was an unexpected action for all three of them. A sudden shift from mostly harmless harassing and interrogation, to something brutal and violent. A tense moment of shock as they realized what happened.

In Impulses’s panicked stupor he looked at the splatter of red against yellow adipose, pouring out far too fast and dripping down; staining Omega St with the animosity and malice of the Hermits and their stupid war.  
His legs felt like jelly; struggling to support what felt like all of the solidified air that failed to reach his lungs. Impulse foolishly gasped, trying to ease the burning in his lungs caused by his panic, but it was a mistake.  
The sudden movement shifted the gash and in a blink, a twisted mess of pink spilled forth. A sob caught in Impulse’s throat and this time he did drop to his knees.  
Fumbling, shaking hands weakly tried to control the damage, but only caused further the outpour of blood and viscera.  
“Jesus, False.” Cub’s voice was steady, almost whispered, but his face betrayed the tone showing revulsion and fear. He spoke to False but his eyes were glued to the shaking, whimpering hermit on the ground beside him. Unable to look away.  
False couldn't even bring herself to look. She looked anywhere but the two in front of her; the grey sky, the greenhouse off in the distance, the Witch in front of her watching on with judgement(?), the bloodied sword in her hand.  
Where's the honor? The glory? The revenge? She attacked a defenseless Hermit who was a victim of poor timing, and now a victim of her blade. She couldn't get her brain to function, to explain and give reasoning. Her mind was stuck in the mud like her boots.  
False chanced a look down, and what she saw disgusted her. Impulse’s skin was far too pale as her cardinal wrath flooded past stained fingers trying hopelessly to hold back entrails,  
Her stomach churned and she turned away, steeling herself not to gag.  
She was a PVP Queen, yeah maybe; she was used to playful matches, but this wasn't a game anymore. This is what the Resistance wanted, she was sure of it. It was them who wanted pain and division. Things were fine under Scar’s power. This is the mess they made.  
She turned around cautiously. If she only looked at his face, it’d be okay, right?  
Impulse looked up at her from his kneeling position, Falses noted distantly his eyes were glazed over and watery. She hardened her face, not letting her guilt swallow her whole.  
“W-why? Why would HEP-” Impulse wheezed. A dekko at Cub showed a similar expression of cool detachment.  
Impulse’s wound wouldn't kill him quickly. The major abdominal arteries were behind the intestines. He’d bleed out relatively slowly, unable to move without risk of gutting himself. He was stuck, trapped. He had no armour, no tools or weapons or food on him. Not even his signature Totem.  
False took a deep breath. “Our job at Hermit Environmental Protection agency is to protect the server from the disease that spreads through here. The literal disease of the fungus, and the disease of those who support it’s spread.” This is revenge. I will not regret revenge. Impulse is part of the Resistance. 

Falsie slid the sword back in its holder on her belt. Dark crimson blood coagulating and smearing against her shorts. She didn't care. She gave a salute to the other Soldier before marching off, cursing through sludge as she shifted the Netherite chestplate resting heavily on her shoulders. Is this what Mycelium Resistance wanted, or what Scar wanted? She did not know. But it was not her job to know, it was her job to be a Spy and a Soldier to HEP first. 

The pitiful Resistance member below Cub hadn't stopped his insistent shaking. Sobbing and heaving. Tear tracks smearing the paint on his cheeks. Annoyance and pity (annoyance about being pityful, maybe?) rushed through Cub.  
“P-please. . . “ Impulse begged, desperately. What for? To be healed, or to be put out of his misery? Cub wasn't sure, but now’s not the time for mercy. He took a few steps forward, putting distance between him and Impulse before facing him.  
Confusion flashed through Impulse’s features before he caught the movement of Cub’s hands, pulling the weapon out of his inventory. Impulse’s eyes widened in fear for what was about to happen.  
Guess all that training in Tagét came in handy for him. He looked at Impulse as if he was no more than pathetic roadkill. Just a pity kill, he told himself. A pity kill without mercy.  
Bow strings drawn back taut, with a deadly aim. There was no hesitation.  
His execution was swift. Impulse hadn't even the time to breathe in one final, shaky breath before he was reduced to a puff of dust and a thick puddle of darkening blood. The rain that was soon to start falling would wash it off. Eventually.  
A slight *ping* let Cub know his target was hit. He put his bow away and pulled out a few flight rockets. He was in the air flying off before he could even see when Impulse respawned back in the Spookificator, or if he would. He’d rather not know. Cub couldn’t help but wonder if this is what Scar wanted when he declared war on the Mycelium Resistance. But he shouldn’t stop to think about all the questions left unanswered, because in the end, this is what a good soldier does.

**Author's Note:**

> Trust me, if i knew what the hell this was, than y'all would be the first to know.  
> Wanted to write someone gettin' stabbed and, well, bada bing bada boom! here we are.


End file.
